Laughter and Nightmares
by jansonpls
Summary: Once again, I'm no good at titles. Set preTPM. A Jedi Padawan has a constant nightmare and a laughing voice in his head that he can't ignore.


-I don't own Star Wars, Yoda, or the term "Padawan".   
-But I _do_ own Anndi, Jeik, Kayli and Li. Actually, everyone except Yoda. So don't use them, please.   
-This is my first story set "before the saga" (as the TFN term goes), so no needless insults, though constructive criticism is very welcome.   
-I'm not sure of any exact date, just that it's set before TPM - probably before the Jedi Apprentice series, too.   
-Now that the ramble is over... enjoy. 

* * *

I'm sitting in the corner of the rec room, watching them. Laughing, joking... they haven't seen me. 

That's what I tell myself, anyway. If I let myself think they know I'm here, then I'll let myself think they're laughing at me, joking about me. 

I don't know why that's any different to usual, though. 

A Rodian head lifts up and turns my way. Large, black eyes consider me for a moment, then grins. I can't decipher the grin. "Anndi," the Rodian Padawan calls, "why don't you join us?" 

My heart jumps even as my head tells me it's a trap. They _have_ seen me, they _do_ know I'm here, and they're _not_ making fun of me. I let myself give them a small smile, I let myself push up onto my feet, I let myself take a few treacherous steps forward. My brain's screaming at me, telling me it's a trap, it's a trap, but like always, I let myself believe. 

"Or," he continues slowly, just as I approach, "are you too busy talking to yourself and crying like a baby? We're big kids, you know, we don't hang with babies. Are you a baby?" 

So it's _that_ grin. 

It's not fair. It's not, it's not. I'm a year older than any of them - I think that's why they do it. I can't help the nightmares, I can't help that they know about them. I can't help the muttering sometimes, or the tears that threaten to fall whenever I think too much. They're doing it right now, as I stare at the group of other Padawans in betrayal. 

Most of them are laughing with the Rodian now, at me. Always at me. 

Not all, though. To the left of the group, Kayli - a fellow human, someone else with troubles that haunt her sleep, though she has better control than me - frowns at the laughter. She looks over at me, smiles sympathetically, then shrugs and turns back to the group. 

She always smiles, and it always makes a tiny piece of my heart feel better. But she never dares to speak out, she never dares to talk to me in front of the others, to defend me. _She's just like all the others,_ a little voice in my head tells me. _She's not worth your time; none of them are. Wait it out and then they'll be sorry; then they'll be sorry._

I'm scared of that voice. It's grown stronger in the past few months; grows stronger with every insult, every jibe, every tease. I can't control it anymore. It feeds off my resentment towards the other Padawans; turns it into hatred and anger. Hatred and anger. Master Yoda always talks about those emotions, about how we must control them; about how they lead to the dark side. I try to control it, I do, I really do! But it's stronger now. It's harder. 

And sometimes, like now - I don't even want to try. 

"I don't want to wait," I whisper to myself, and the voice laughs, laughs a cruel, insane laugh that fills my mind. I can't think now, not properly - the laughter is all I hear. It's a twisted, mad version of the Padawans' laughter; lower, louder, harsher. _Yes,_ it hisses, _why wait? Show them **now**_. 

"I'm not a baby," I tell Jeik firmly. 

He stops laughing and stares at me blankly for a moment. Then he smirks, he sniggers and he laughs again. "Oh, the baby has a comeback, does he? What a comeback! Oh, I'm hurt, baby! I'm hurt!" 

"I'm _not_ a baby!" I insist, louder this time. Frustrated at him, at them all, I reach out and grab the collar of his robes. He stumbles to his feet, surprised at my strength. Yes, I think, I'm stronger than you. You just never noticed. "Take it back!" 

He stares at me - stares down, since he's a good few inches taller than me. I've always been short, and it's always made everything worse. But it doesn't matter now. I'm stronger than him, even if I _am_ shorter, and he can sense it. He can sense the anger flowing in me, and I can tell that it worries him, even if he won't admit it. "Leave it out, Anndi," he mutters. "We were just kidding around." 

"You're always kidding around. I'm sick of it! Why can't you just leave me alone?" 

The others at the table seem uncomfortable now; they share wary glances with each other, but I ignore them. Kayli looks right at me, her gaze pleading, but I ignore her, too. Jeik's starting to look uncomfortable, too. He doesn't meet my gaze; I know it's burning right through him. He doesn't like it. "Look, Anndi, it's just fun, you know? Don't take it so bad." 

I let out a frustrated groan and push him away. Without realising it, I've used the Force to increase the strength behind the push, and he goes crashing back into the table. The other Padawans scatter across the rec room as the table collapses beneath Jeik. He lies there, stunned, splinters poking into him. 

I'm just as shocked, and I stare at the mess with a tiny sense of horror. _Now you've done it_, the normal voice tells me. _That was a rare import, Nubian wood. Valuable. And you've hurt him._

_But you don't care,_ the other voice hisses. _He deserved it. He teased you about the nightmares. No one teases you about the nightmares._

The nightmares... They're coming back now, pushing in at the corner of my mind, ignoring all the shields I've put up. Suddenly, everything's gone and the nightmares have taken over, flooding my mind, filling every corner of it. I don't even notice the thud as I fall to the ground, curled up into a ball, crying into my arms. No no nonono... 

----- 

_"Anndi, Anndi!" _

The small boy stumbles out of his bedroom, half-dressed and heedless to the desperation in his mother's voice. "Mama?" 

"Hurry up, hurry up, we need to go!" She's standing in the doorway of the small cottage, tears streaking her face, a backdrop of explosions and lightning beyond her. She reaches her arms out, unable to move forward to get to him because the roof has collapsed. It blocks the doorway, and the boy's older brother is trying futilely to lift away the rubble. 

Suddenly, the boy realises what's going on; the soldiers have come. The soldiers that killed his daddy last month have come for his brother; for him, and his mother. "Mama!" he screams, rushing forward towards her. He ignored the stones that continue to fall from the ceiling; miraculously, none of them hit him, as if he is protected by an invisible shield. "Mama!" 

The night continues to explode, thunder and lightning, gunshots and screams. The soldiers have attacked the whole village, something the boy cannot comprehend. Why his village? Why not the next one, or the next one? This is his village. They can't attack his village. 

Suddenly, his brother stops trying to lift the rubble out of the way, and looks at the small boy, a pained expression on his face. "It's useless. We can't..." He turns to his mother. "Mam, we have to go. We have to. Maybe they won't hurt Anndi, they're not looking for him. But if we're here, they'll kill us all. You understand? Come on." 

His mother screams, an anguished cry to the night, and the small boy's voice joins her. No, no, they can't leave him! Not to the soldiers! Anyone but the soldiers, the terrible soldiers with their scary voices, their loud guns, their uniforms oh-so-clean and tidy. The soldiers aren't nice! They killed his daddy! He doesn't want to be left to the soldiers. 

"Come on," the older boy repeats, pulling at his mother's shoulder. Tears are running down his face now; he has to go. He has to go. He can't die here; he has to fight later. He has to go. 

"Mama! Don't go! No leave me 'lone!" 

His mother's breath catches in her throat, and she lets out a loud sob. "I won't go, Anndi," she whispers to her youngest son. "I won't leave you." 

"Mam!" The older boy is crying now, just as much as the other two. "You can't - I have to go, you understand? I can't just leave you - they'll kill you! They'll kill you and Anndi!" 

"Go," she whispers to him, her eyes not leaving the small boy's. "Go, and fight like your dad. Fight for us, Li. Fight for us." 

The older boy shakes his head briefly, hesitates, then nods. With a choked sob, he hugs his mother, and tells her, "I love you. Love you, Anndi," he calls to his brother. "I'll fight for you." 

And then he's gone, and it's just the small boy and his mother. He crawls forward, reaches a chubby hand up to hold tight to his mother's. "Mama," he whispers. "Love you." 

His mother nods, wiping at her face uselessly. "Love you, Anndi. I always will, forever and ever and-" 

The small boy screams as his mother is pulled roughly away from him. Her hand jerks out of his and he scrambles backwards, knowing somehow what's about to happen. He crouches in the corner of the hallway, covers his ears with his hands tightly, but it's no use. 

"Where's the boy?" a sharp voice barks at his mother. 

"What boy?" 

There's a pause. "Kill her." 

The small boy screams again as he hears the blaster shot, and then a surge in his mind. His mother is dead. His mother, his mother... She's dead, she's dead, he heard it, he felt it, she's dead. Gone, gone, gone... "Mama!" 

The soldiers hear him; he knows it. One of them looks through the gap in the rubble and sneers at him. He sticks his tongue out at the man, the only insult he knows, though with his tear-streaked face it's not worth much. 

"A miniature rebel, eh?" the man says slowly, then pulls his head out. After a moment, another man crouches down and looks through, aiming a blaster at the boy. 

He screams again, squeezes his eyes shut and curls up as tight as he can, as small as he can. Maybe if he's small, they'll miss. Maybe- 

The shot is loud; it deafens the boy. He screams loudly, expecting the pain any moment, but instead he hears a crackle and the ping of a ricochet. There's the sound of a stone falling to the ground, then shouts from the soldiers, a word the boy doesn't know, and more blaster shots, more ricochets. 

Soon, there's nothing but the hiss of rain on scorched rock, and the background crackle of **something**. Slowly, the boy opens his eyes, gaping at the mess of black-streaked rubble. It's surrounding him, but none has fallen on him. His shielding has protected him again, though he doesn't know how it works. 

But there's something else; an eerie green glow to the hallway. He turns his head, sees another man, another soldier there. But this one's different; he's dressed not in the immaculate uniforms of the army, but in brown robes. His weapon is different too; not a blaster, but a glowing blade, pure energy that the boy is sure he can sense. 

"Anndi," the man says quietly. The boy doesn't stop to wonder how he knows his name. Instead, he starts crying again, loudly. "Anndi," the man repeats firmly. "Get up." 

Before he knows what he's doing, the boy staggers to his feet, sniffling into his sleeve. "Mama..." 

"Your mother's dead, Anndi. I'm sorry." 

"Mama!" 

The man bites at his bottom lip, unsure of what to say to reassure the boy. "Come on, Anndi. I'm going to take you somewhere safe. Away from the soldiers." 

"With Li?" 

"No. Li's a soldier now, too." 

The boy shakes his head fiercely. "Li not soldier! Li rebel!" 

"They're all soldiers," the man mutters bitterly, then reaches down to pick the boy up. "We're going to Coruscant. The Jedi will train you in the ways of the Force; you're strong, Anndi." 

The boy doesn't say anything, just sniffles into the man's shoulder. He's strong, is he? Then he will come back from this 'Coruscant', and he will fight the soldiers. He will fight with his brother, and avenge his mama and daddy. This thought keeps him occupied as the man takes him away, away from his battle-wrecked home, away to the 'Jedi', who will train him and make him strong. 

He will be strong. 

----- 

The light blinds me as I open my eyes, and I immediately squeeze them shut again. With my brief glance, I can tell that I'm in the medical wing. What happened? Oh, right - the rec room. I reach out with the Force, sensing my Master to the left of me, and Master Yoda at the bottom of the bed. Slowly, I open my eyes again, adjusting to the brightness. 

"Anndi, you're awake." The voice of the man who took me away from my home is the last thing I need to hear after the nightmare. The strange voice starts whispering in the corner of my mind, but I ignore it. I try to ignore it. 

"Recovered, are you, young Padawan?" Yoda's voice is almost as grating on my mind. 

"Yeah," I mutter, refusing to look at either of them. 

"Anndi, what happened in the rec room?" 

I don't know, what _did_ happen? I pushed that stupid Rodian into the table, didn't I? "Jeik was making fun of me again... I pushed him into the table. I think I broke it; sorry." I'm not sorry. 

My Master frowns as he studies me, and Yoda sighs. "Remember only that you do, Padawan?" 

"That's all that happened." Isn't that all that happened? 

My Master bites his bottom lip again, nervous. I hate that habit. Every time he does it, I want to punch him. Doesn't he know how childish it makes him look? "No, Anndi. You put Jeik into a bacta tank." 

"I - what?" My bitterness is replaced by shock. I did what? 

"Kayli said you just lost control. Most of the other Padawans ran away, but Jeik said something to you after you pushed him and you just snapped. She tried to pull you off him, but you hit her away. It took two of the Knights to stop you." 

What? No, no, that's not what happened. I collapsed, didn't I? I had that nightmare again. _Mama..._ I didn't hurt Jeik that badly, did I? 

I raise my head, ignoring the pain in my neck, and look around the room carefully. My eyes widen as I catch sight of the bacta tank, and the Rodian form floating in it. No, no, no... A bacta tank? How badly did I hurt him? "Is he-?" I swallow, and close my eyes. "Is he OK?" 

There's a brief pause. "No. You really hurt him, Anndi." My Master's voice is shaking slightly, though from what, I can't tell. Sadness, grief? Fear? "Several broken ribs, one puncturing his lung. Bad skull fracture. Both arms broken." 

Sith, that bad? That's not good for a Rodian. A human could recover fairly easily, but a Rodian? "But he's - he's gonna be OK, isn't he?" 

"Know that, we do not, Padawan." Yoda's voice is stern, but soft. "Think about this carefully, you must do. To control your emotions, you must learn. Outbursts like this... dangerous, they are." 

"I know," I say quietly. "But I couldn't help it. He was making fun of me - and the voice-" 

"Voice?" My master sounds confused, but wary. "What voice?" 

_Don't tell them,_ it says. _They don't need to know. If they know, they'll stop you, and you'll never be able to fight. You have to fight; if it wasn't for them, you wouldn't have to. If they'd only gotten there in time... It's their fault._

"Their fault," I whisper to myself, ignoring the two Masters' curious stares. 

"Rest, you must, Padawan. Decide in the morning what to do, we will. Now sleep." With one last look, they both leave, and I sigh as I lean back into the bed. 

I've really done it now. I've - if Jeik doesn't recover, I've killed someone. They'll throw me out of the Order. 

_Do you care?_

No... If they throw me out, then I can go back home and fight. I can find my brother, fight in the war that still ravages my planet. Get revenge for my mother and father. Mama... 

They say revenge is not the way of the Jedi, but how many of them have had to watch their mother die? Knowing that if the Jedi had only gotten there _sooner_, if they had heard the mental plea and paid attention, that everything could be different? I'm only here to learn enough to fight properly... Eight years has been long enough. I don't want to stay. The way of the Jedi is not for me... If they don't throw me out, I'll leave. 

That's what I'll do. Tomorrow, I'll leave. I'll cut off my braid, hand in my robes... I realise bitterly that I have no other possessions. My robes. That's all. What a glorious life Jedi lead. 

It's the life I'll leave behind tomorrow. Whatever happens, I can't stay here. I've had enough of everything; had enough of the other Padawans teasing me, of the rules and peace and contemplation, of not being able to _do_ anything. How can anyone stand to commit their lives to such a foolish Order? I don't understand... I don't understand! I can't do it! I need to fight! And I will. 

Tomorrow will be a new life for me. Not a Jedi, but a fighter. 

The voice laughs. 

* * *


End file.
